The multicolored woman has much style. When she sips she sits in crossed leg shapes, showing off areas deep inside the shade. She’s too cool and stresses she cannot be disturbed.

“Get that cat out of here this instance!”

The cat caresses her legs. The multicolored woman becomes red and stomps. The hard thumps from her pumps call her server over.

“Yes ma’am? How can I help you?”

“You see that cat kid? It’s playing with a spider. This is a restaurant and a cat’s inside playing with a spider.”

“Ma’am I understand your anger. I see you’re all red. If I entered the Chili Umbrella, where cats playing with spiders are the gimmick and didn’t know, I’d be angry as well.”

The multicolored woman turns yellow, feeling ethnocentric, she feels her nose way up and smells the odors of the animals.

“Here at the Chili Umbrella, we promote free-roaming animals.”

The multicolored woman realizes she can no longer complain. She begins to enjoy her surroundings. She turns light blue and caresses the cat she once shun; she turns pink as she walks outside smelling the air; she becomes purple on the sight of a butterfly. The multicolored woman turns white when she sees multiple federal agency vehicles driving close to her road. Their footsteps do no good to her heart, aquablue now since she’s been left alone.

According to most, she’s said all along, her husband killed himself. Today the detectives found evidence. Her footprints were found to imply she possible could’ve done it.

—Andy Riverbed